


Turning And Returning (To Some Secret Place Inside)

by Lothiriel84



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Post Episode: s04e06 Yverdon-les-Bains, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Good night, my Captain," he murmurs under his breath, a reluctant smile creeping to his lips. "And good luck."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning And Returning (To Some Secret Place Inside)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a reference to the song _Take My Breath Away_ by Berlin.

They’re celebrating Martin’s impending departure for Zurich, and that prompts Carolyn to loosen her pockets just a tiny bit – which gives the Captain enough leeway to get himself comfortably drunk. Truth be told, that has probably never been within the lad’s intentions; it’s not his fault if his tolerance for alcohol is ridiculously low, and Douglas doesn’t even tease him – much.

He’s the one who takes it upon himself to drive the merry drunk back home, and hauls him upstairs to the poor excuse of an attic that has been his residence up till now. Martin’s cheerfulness, however, gradually dissipates somewhere along the way; by the time they reach the topmost flight of stairs a wistful mood has taken hold of the younger man, and Douglas merely shakes his head when his friend flops gracelessly onto the mattress.

“Stupid Zurich,” Martin mumbles as his soon-to-be former First Officer hands him a glass of water. “Don’t wanna leave.”

Douglas shoots him a half-hearted smirk. “Says the lucky sod who’s inexplicably managed to jump into a passing speedboat.”

“Not a speedboat,” Martin slurs. “Airline.”

“Either way, I’m the one who’ll go down with this ship – or airdot, as it happens. You should count your blessings, m’ lad.”

“Don’t wanna leave you.” The words tumble out of his mouth before Martin can stop them, and Douglas finds nothing better to do than stare back in something akin to shock.

“Sir has had a little drink, I fear,” he replies smoothly. “Better to sleep it off, don’t you think?”

Still he doesn’t offer any resistance when the young idiot pulls at his tie and inelegantly crashes his mouth against his own. Martin’s lips are soft, still sweet from the wine he’s had earlier, and Douglas is suddenly reminded of all the reasons why this is a bad idea.

Luckily it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to get the better of the silly boy, a soft snore the only sound in the room as Douglas eases him back against the pillow and prepares to leave.

“Good night, my Captain,” he murmurs under his breath, a reluctant smile creeping to his lips. “And good luck.”

 

* * *

Martin moves to Zurich, and so does Herc – thought the latter is more than happy to volunteer as a Captain whenever MJN needs him. Douglas is still First Officer – Carolyn has to keep herself amused after all – and Arthur does his best to cheer everyone up, no matter that neither Douglas nor Carolyn are really looking forward to it.

Three months after Martin’s departure Douglas finally swallows his pride and picks up the phone. Carolyn gives him a piece of her mind about stubborn pilots and middle-aged dolts, then orders him not to move a finger until she gets there. He watches her tersely as she searches the flat, only to relax a fraction when she eventually declares it alcohol-free; they spend the rest of the evening revising the budget for the next flight, and before leaving Carolyn makes it abundantly clear he’d better call when another crisis arises.

“Likewise,” he says, doesn’t even flinch when she shoots him a withering glare. She may not have a drinking problem, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have regrets of her own; they’re two old fools who’ve left their last chance at life pass them by, they may as well pretend they’re not alone if only for a short while.

 

* * *

They fly to Zurich on Christmas Eve, and Douglas grudgingly tags along when they meet Herc for lunch. Later on he’s slumped on the back seat of a taxi, a slip of paper with Martin’s new address sitting in his pocket, and he wonders what exactly he’s going to do once he gets there.

Martin stares at him for a long moment, his eyes wide with surprise; he looks like a kid that has accidentally walked in on Father Christmas, and Douglas can’t help but smile. “I hope I’m not disrupting whatever plans Sir may have for the festivities,” he jokes, and he’s not sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed when his friend promptly shakes his head.

“I’m not that big on Christmas, as I believe I’ve mentioned before,” Martin says matter-of-factly. “Anyway, it’s not like I have anyone to spend it with, what with being in Switzerland and everything else.”

“What about your girlfriend? Last time I checked she didn’t live that far from here.”

Martin puts the kettle on, pauses briefly to shrug his shoulders. “Princess Theresa is not my girlfriend, Douglas. She’s nice, and we’re good friends – but that’s all there is about it.”

An awkward silence falls, heavy with regrets and words left unsaid. Douglas is pretty sure that his former Captain doesn’t remember his alcohol-induced confession, but it doesn’t change the fact that he for one was quite sober when he heard it.

“If you happen to fancy a MJN Christmas you could always join us for dinner,” he offers at length. “All quite low-key, obviously – as one would expect from Arthur on his favourite time of the year.”

Martin chuckles, a sound Douglas never had the time to appreciate properly. “Yes, why not?” the younger man agrees easily, and for the space of an evening it’s like they’re back to the good old times.

 

* * *

It’s early February when Herc proposes again. Carolyn is going on and on about the ridiculousness of the idea, and Douglas frankly has had enough of it; he can hardly believe his own ears when it’s Arthur of all people who comes up with a sensible objection to his mother’s rambling.

“That doesn’t make sense, Mum,” the boy argues quite reasonably. “If you marry him we will be a proper family at last, and what could me more brilliant than that?”

Carolyn looks momentarily stunned, then storms out of the Portakabin muttering something like ‘things to do’. She never addresses the subject again, but the next time Herc shows up he sounds very much like the cat that got the cream – quite revoltingly so, as a matter of fact – and Douglas buys Arthur a stack of Toblerones and a lottery ticket as a token of his gratitude.

 

* * *

A month later Arthur bursts into the flight deck with such enthusiasm that Douglas is reminded of peach schnapps and their decidedly unpleasant side effects.

“What is it this time?” he enquires wearily, mentally running through all the possible options that would allow him to excuse himself and finally go home. It’s been a long flight, he’s tired and more than a little inclined to self-pity; dealing with the steward’s misplaced outbursts of optimism is very near the bottom of his list right now.

“Remember the ticket you gave me, Douglas?” the boy grins, and it takes a moment for the implications of those words to sink in.

“Oh,” he acknowledges at length. “Did you by any chance win anything?”

Arthur’s smile widens even more as he announces how much his lottery ticket is actually worth. Douglas has to lean back on his seat as his brain frantically starts calculating what that kind of sum would mean for MJN, and his head spins a little.

Judging from how Carolyn is sitting in near-shock in the galley, the same thought has definitely occurred to her as well.

 

* * *

Herc takes early retirement from Swiss Airways, and spends the next two weeks assessing the financial situation of Carolyn’s company. Once it’s clear that the budget now allows for another pilot to receive a relatively standard pay cheque, Carolyn makes one crucial phone call to Switzerland – and First Officer Crieff apparently doesn’t need to be asked twice, much to everyone’s delight.

Martin has barely the time to step out of the plane before he finds himself hugged by an overjoyed Arthur, as if it’s a long-lost brother he never hoped to see again. Even Carolyn goes as far as grace the lad with a genuine smile, and Douglas isn’t quite sure what he’s supposed to do besides shake his friend’s hand and welcome him home.

What the hell, he almost wishes he could wrap Martin in a warm embrace and make sure he knows exactly how much he’s been missed. He settles for congratulating him on his return to the captain’s seat, his tone suitably wry as to not arise any unwarranted suspicion; Martin raises a questioning eyebrow, but he doesn’t get the chance to question the statement since Arthur insists they should celebrate the moment with pineapple juice on the rocks.

It’s only much later, as they’re sitting in his Lexus bickering about Martin’s temporary accommodation – for there’s no way he’s staying at Carolyn’s house, and Douglas is damned if he’s going to let his friend spend the night in a hotel when there’s a perfectly comfortable spare room in his flat – that the subject of captaincy is addressed again.

“You should be captain, Douglas,” the impossible man claims stubbornly. “I’ve been a first officer for nine months now, and when Carolyn called me I just assumed she wanted me back as such.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffs. “You’ve always wanted to be a captain. And as loathe as I am to admit it, teasing you wouldn’t be half as fun if you weren’t one.”

His friend clenches his fist, stares resolutely out of the window. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity? Is that what you think? Martin, do I need to remind you that I never have fewer than seven ulterior motives at any given moment in time?”

Their eyes meet at last, and Martin looks suddenly uncertain – and possibly hopeful, though it’s quite hard to tell when the man is always a bundle of nerves. “Right,” he murmurs warily. “Dare I ask you what those motives might be?”

Douglas smirks, his sky-god charms firmly in place. “Oh, you know – I just thought that ‘I seduced my dashing young Captain’ sounded so much better than ‘I took advantage of my hapless subordinate.’ What do you think?”

A muffled sound comes from Martin’s throat, and then he’s leaning over the gear lever – Douglas meeting him halfway, and isn’t it lucky that they postponed this conversation until they were safely parked in front of his house?

“You didn’t seduce me,” Martin feels the need to correct him, his voice unintentionally husky and his fingers still clutching at the lapels of Douglas’ jacket.

“Not yet,” Douglas agrees smoothly, right before closing the distance and meeting his lips for a soft kiss.


End file.
